Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

Llewelyn's bed, not unless you were love-blinded ...or bewitched.""Will you tell Llewelyn, then? Will you tell Davydd?""I will tell Davydd. I cannot tell Llewelyn.""But why? I am not asking this for my sake; I know he cannot forgive me. But if he knew the truth, his grieving might not be so great Can you not see that?""It is you who do not see, Joanna. Llewelyn is not about to believe anything you say, not now. Yours was the one betrayal he never expected. I truly think he'd have killed any man who dared come to him with suspicions, would never have believed it of you. And now ... now he will not allow your name to be spoken in his hearing. Only once has he mentioned you, saying you were dead to him . . . and the measure of his bitterness is the measure of the love he once bore you."13DOLWYDDELAN, NORTH WALESMay 1230LEAVING Aber soon after Will de Braose's hanging, Llewelyn began a wide circuit of his domains, maintaining a hign. visible presence to discourage speculation and set gossip at rest. He w at Dinbych Castle by mid-May, where he was overtaken by a Cister Abbot who'd often served as an emissary of the crown; the Abbot vbearing letters from the English King and his Chancellor, and Llewe. agreed to meet with the Chancellor at Shrewsbury in June. From ^bych, Llewelyn moved south into Powys, and then on to the Ciste kt,ey of Strata Florida. He did not linger, however, and the last days of -jay found him back in Gwynedd, in the heartland of his realm, the mountain citadel he most loved, his castle at Dolwyddelan.He'd been traveling so rapidly, spending so many hours in the sadie that he'd outdistanced most couriers, and the table in his bedchamber was strewn with letters that had only recently caught up with jjm. He was sorting through them, dictating responses to a scribe, as pavydd entered the chamber."Papa ..." Davydd was unsure how to identify Richard, but after a nioment's reflection, he realized it was immaterial; announcing him as Richard Fitz Roy would not make him any the less Joanna's brother. "Papa, my Uncle Richard has just ridden in. Are you willing to see him?"Llewelyn was not, but he was even less willing to admit it, so he nodded.The exchange of greetings was awkward for them all. Richard looked fatigued, and not a little embarrassed. "It is good of you to make me welcome.""You are Davydd's uncle," Llewelyn said dispassionately, but Richard was not deceived, saw Llewelyn's courtesy for what it was, an icy exercise in self-control.Richard had given much thought to what he would say to Llewelyn, but he realized that was time misspent. To offer this man sympathy would be to offer a mortal insult. Although he'd never lacked for courage, he did not find it easy now to make mention of his sister's name. "Davydd tells me that Joanna is at Llanfaes. Have I your permission to see her?""Yes," Llewelyn said, still in those dangerously soft tones, and Richard thanked him, thinking all the while that Will de Braose must have been one ofGod's great fools . . . second only to his sister."I'll see that my uncle and his men are fed and bedded down in the great hall," Davydd offered, and when Llewelyn nodded, he ushered Richard toward the

door. But within moments he was back, glancing 'lrst at the stacked parchments and then at Llewelyn's scribe."It grows late, Papa, and Celyn looks tired. Can the letters not wait M the morrow?""Your concern for Celyn's well-being is commendable," Llewelyn ^'d dryly, but then he smiled at his son. "Very well, lad. That will be a11' Celyn."'Shall I summon your squires, Papa?"Llewelyn resisted the temptation to ask if Davydd wanted to keep §u by his bedside till he slept. "No, Davydd, that's not necessary. Go* to the hall now, make sure that our guests are looked after."

644Gathering up the correspondence, the scribe made a discreet departure; those who served Llewelyn this spring had, of necessity, learned to be as prescient as soothsayers, as unobtrusive as shadows. Davydd paused in the doorway. "God grant you a restful night, Papa," he said and Llewelyn thought it might be for the best, after all, that Richard had come to his court. Mayhap Richard might be able to do what he could not, talk to the lad about Joanna. That Davydd had such a need, he well knew. A man might disavow a wanton, cheating wife. But a son could not be expected to disavow his mother.Reaching for a flagon, Llewelyn poured himself a cup of malmsey. He drank slowly, rationing himself, for he was not such a fool as to think he could drown his dreams in wine. Picking up the cup, he crossed to the bed, lay down upon it fully clothed. The dreams had a numbing sameness, differing only in detail. Most often the dream did but reflect reality; he would walk into his bedchamber, unsuspecting, and find his wife with her young lover. More than once, though/ the dream took an even uglier turn, and he would enter the chamber while they were making love, naked bodies entwined together in his bed, so lost in their lust they did not perceive their danger until it was too late, until he had sword in hand. Sometimes he heeded Ednyved, took a more calculating, cold-blooded vengeance; sometimes Will died at once, there in the bedchamber. But not Joanna, for even in his dreams he could never bring himself to thrust the sword into her breast.As harrowing as these dreams were, they were not as rending as the others, the dreams of days gone by, those that recreated his world before his discovery ofJoanna's infidelity. Like most dreams, they were an incongruous blend of the fanciful and the commonplace, dreams in which a man might get saddle sores from riding a unicorn. But in them all, Joanna was